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The prevailing attitude is that dragstrips and other racetracks were driven away primarily as a result of urban development. As I began to show last month, it just ain't so. In my search for the locations of former SoCal strips, I was astounded to find, in approximately nine out of ten cases, that the settings were still bare, vacant land or-as in the case of Ramona-the former track is still right there, with weeds growing through it. In fact, this seems to be the case nationwide. In a monthly series in the magazine's Straight Scoop column, Car Craft has been running photos sent in by readers of still-existing but abandoned dragstrips in all parts of the country, and that's been going on for more than three years. Think about it. Most strips were built in pretty remote areas-for obvious reasons-in the first place. In most cases, this is the last acreage to be developed
pacific northwest regional architecture blog
shelter institute projects
wfmu logo contest (congratulations to the winner - 1st page, upper left.) excellent choice!
The politics and the photographers who shaped those images under the auspices of the federal Farm Security Administration come to life in “Documenting the Face of America: Roy Stryker and the F.S.A./O.W.I. Photographers,” an hourlong documentary on most PBS stations Monday night. The film shows how Mr. Stryker turned a small government agency’s New Deal project to document poverty into a visual anthology of thousands of images of American life in the 1930s and early ’40s that helped shape modern documentary photography; more than 160,000 are now at the Library of Congress.
Before television or the Internet, when many Americans lacked even a radio, the photographs told stories that would have remained elusive to those out of eyeball range. Ms. Lange and Mr. Rothstein, along with celebrated figures like Walker Evans and Gordon Parks, used their cameras to preserve scenes of winding bread lines, dirty-faced families in front of their ramshackle farmhouses or in jalopies with their possessions piled high, as well as the stark “colored” signs of segregated public facilities and somber black children picking cotton.
Roots of Communal Revival 1962-1966
One of the great flowerings of communitarianism in America came with the era of the hippies in the 1960s and early 1970s. The rural hippie communes were media attention-grabbers, full of photo opportunities, wild anecdotes, and the weirdest-looking people most Americans had ever seen. Press coverage was massive from about 1969 through 1972, and a string of popular books soon emerged, most of them travelogues of the authors' visits to communes. A fair body of scholarship eventually developed as well.
One standard theme in all of that coverage and scholarship, however, was oddly misguided. In case after case, observers of the new communalism seeking to explain the origins of the communes concluded that they were products of the decay of urban hippie life in the Haight-Ashbury, the East Village, and other enclaves. The hip urban centers, so the thesis ran, might have briefly been joyous centers of peace and love and expanded consciousness, but they soon devolved into cesspools of hard drugs, street crime, and official repression of dissident lifestyles. The hippies at that point fled for the friendly precincts of the countryside, where they built communes as new places for working out the hip vision.
Examples of this explanation of the origins of hippie communalism abound in both popular and scholarly writings. Maren Lockwood Carden, for example, writing in 1976, says matter-of- factly that the hippies' "first communes were created within the urban areas in which they already lived," and that beginning in 1966 "and especially during 1967 and 1968, such community-oriented hippies left the city." Helen Constas and Kenneth Westhues purport to trace the history of the counterculture "from its charismatic beginnings in the old urban bohemias to its current locale in rural communes," concluding that "communes signify the routinization of hippiedom."
Actually, however, the new communes began to appear before there was a clearly recognizable overall hippie culture, much less a decaying one; they represented a new outcropping of the much larger venerable American tradition of alternative culture, a part of which has involved communal living. Catalyzed by shifts in American culture in the late 1950s and early 1960s, the hip communes were not, in the beginning, products of hippiedom, but crucibles that played a major role in shaping and defining hip culture. In other words, the urban hippies did not create the first hip communes; it would be closer to the truth to say that the earliest communes helped create the hippies. While communes were indeed founded by hippies who fled the cities, they were johnnies- come-lately to the hip communal scene. When did the hippies first appear?
the sea ranch
In case you had not heard before, this short is called "The Party". Robert Fortier is the hapless dude at this late-60s party. This short was directed by Robert Altman years before he did "M.A.S.H." (which was years before he directed "Nashville"). This short, set to the TJB's Bittersweet Samba, was created as the middle of a 3-part series for RA's personal guests.
rip jerry "more bass" wexler
2 new songs posted by quintron from his new album too thirsty 4 love
Thongs were inspired by the traditional woven soled zōri or "Japanese Sandals", (hence "jandals"). Woven Japanese zōri had been used as beach wear in New Zealand in the 1930s . In the post war period in both New Zealand and America, versions were briefly popularized by servicemen returning from occupied Japan. The idea of making sandals from plastics did not occur for another decade. The modern design was purportedly invented in Auckland, New Zealand by Morris Yock in the 50's and patented in 1957. However, this claim has recently been contested by the children of John Cowie. John Cowie was an England-raised businessman who started a plastics manufacturing business in Hong Kong after the war. His children claim that it was Cowie that started manufacturing a plastic version of the sandals in the late 1940s and that Morris Yock was just a New Zealand importer. His children say that their father claimed to have invented the name Jandal from a shortened form of 'Japanese Sandal'. John Cowie and family emigrated to New Zealand in 1959. Despite 'jandal' being commonly used in New Zealand to describe any manufacturer's brand, the word Jandal is actually a trademark since 1957, for a long time owned by the Skellerup company. In countries other than New Zealand, jandals are known by other names. For example, thongs, in Australia, where the first pair were manufactured by Skellerup rival Dunlop in 1960 and became popular there after being worn by the Australian Olympic swimming team at the Melbourne Olympic Games in 1956. In the UK and US they are most commonly known as flip-flops.
Don Helms, whose piercing, forceful steel guitar helped define the sound of nearly all of Hank Williams’s hits, and who performed and recorded with a long list of other country greats, died Monday in Nashville. He was 81 and lived in Hendersonville, Tenn. The cause was complications of heart surgery and diabetes, said Marty Stuart, a friend and fellow performer. Mr. Helms played on more than 100 Hank Williams songs and on 10 of his 11 No. 1 country hits. He provided the dirgelike, weeping notes in songs like “I Can’t Help It (If I’m Still in Love With You)” and “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” and added a catchy, propulsive twang to up-tempo numbers like “Jambalaya (On the Bayou)” and “Hey, Good Lookin.’ ” “After the great tunes and Hank’s mournful voice, the next thing you think about in those songs is the steel guitar,” said Bill Lloyd, the curator of stringed instruments at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. “It is the quintessential honky-tonk steel sound — tuneful, aggressive, full of attitude.”cold cold heart blues stay away from me bye bye blues
Pastorius was most identified by his use of two well-worn Fender Jazz Basses from the early 1960s: A 1960 fretted, and a 1962 fretless. The fretless, known by Jaco as the "bass of doom", was originally a fretted bass (at the time Fender did not manufacture fretless Jazz Basses) from which he removed the frets and used wood filler to fill in the grooves where the frets had been, along with the holes created where chunks of the fretboard had been taken out. Jaco then sanded down the fingerboard, and applied several coats of marine epoxy (Petit's Poly-poxy) to prevent the rough Rotosound RS-66 roundwound bass strings he used from eating into the bare wood. Even though he played both the fretted and the fretless basses frequently, he preferred the fretless, because he felt frets were a hindrance, once calling them "speed bumps". However, he said in the instructional video that he never practiced with the fretless because the strings "chew the neck up." Both of his Fender basses were stolen shortly before he entered Bellevue hospital in 1986. In 1993, one of the basses resurfaced in a New York City music shop, with the distinctive letter P written between the two pickups. The store told Bass Player magazine it was brought in by a "student" of Jaco's, and the asking price was $35,000. In early 2008, the bass of doom, last seen with Jaco in Central Park shortly before his death, surfaced in New York City. It is unknown where the bass of doom has been for the last twenty years, but it was examined by several experts as well as bassists Will Lee, Victor Wooten and Victor Bailey, and is almost certainly Jaco's. The bass of doom's appearance has also drastically changed, since he smashed it shortly before his death, and it now has flame maple veneers to hold the shattered pieces together. Jaco also had two Jaydee Basses made for him shortly before he died; a fretted and a fretless.wiki entry
FLW gas station
Stanley Marcus' Lakewood house, for decades the most glamorous residence in Dallas, may be torn down by the couple that once spurred efforts to preserve it.
The Lovvorn family has made some changes to the Marcus house, including painting the red-brick exterior and altering the entry, since buying it in 1994. From left are Janie, Tricia, Justin, Ben, Parris, Patty and Mark Lovvorn. The announcement by Dallas banker Mark Lovvorn, who bought the house from Mr. Marcus in 1994, brought a mixture of shock, surprise and anger from preservationists statewide.
But Mr. Lovvorn, chairman of Providence Bank of Texas, said restoring the house is economically impractical. He said he and his wife, Patty, intend to build a new house for their family on the 3-acre site. The Dallas Central Appraisal District has appraised the house and land at $1.8 million.
"Our family has always loved this house and appreciated the history of this house," he said. "That said, there are things we would like to do that you can't do with a house this size and this age."
Mr. Lovvorn sent a letter late last month to the Texas Historical Commission, notifying the agency that he intended to demolish the house, triggering a 60-day waiting period. The commission has since exercised its option to extend that period an extra 30 days and has asked to meet with the Lovvorns. Mr. Lovvorn said he would welcome the opportunity to discuss alternatives.
Beyond imposing a waiting period, the commission has no power to stop the demolition.
Jack A. Weil, a garter salesman, breezed into Denver in 1928 in a new Chrysler Roadster to start a new life. He exceeded his hopes and became a king of cowboy couture — almost certainly the first to put snaps on Western shirts (17 on a shirt), and most likely the first to produce bolo ties commercially. His Rockmount Ranch Wear Mfg. Company has sold millions of shirts, including at least one shipment to Antarctica, since it started in 1946. Clark Gable wore one in “The Misfits” with Marilyn Monroe, and Heath Ledger’s shirt in “Brokeback Mountain” — plaid fabric, diamond snaps and saw-tooth pockets — was Style No. 69-39.